Z-Minus (Book 5)

by Perrin Briar

  The soldiers spread out, fully locked and loaded. Steve had a specially-designed assault rifle strapped to his prosthetic, and an ACR tucked in tight to the shoulder of his muscular human arm.

  Taylor had a sniper rifle strapped to her missing leg and a pair of pistols in her hands. She was perched beside Archie at the back of the room.

  Jericho had a pair of pistols in holsters at his waist and an AK-47 in his hands. For him, reliability was everything.

  The scientists had a pistol each. The survivors had dark grey bags under their eyes and a fire in their hearts.

  Archie’s right arm was working hard on building the cure, whirring away. Ten minutes remained, and unfortunately it wasn’t going to be peaceful. There was nowhere else for them to run. They had to stay and fight until the cure was ready.

  The undead were on the floor below, stumbling around and feeding on the comatose bodies. It was the worst thing Susan had ever listened to. She swore she heard a few groans that sounded like they were from living throats, but she tried to block them out. She’d administered enough Arsenic to each patient for them to die. At the very least they would feel nothing.

  But the slurping, snapping sounds of the undead as they fed on the helpless bodies was more than Susan could stomach. She turned away and pressed her hands to her ears. She couldn’t bear to listen to them feeding. They’d been like friends to her, each with their own little quirks and characteristics. Now they were only easy meals for hungry beasts. Susan could see she wasn’t the only one who felt sick.

  But the distraction worked. The majority of the undead took their time with the bodies, feeding and getting as much sustenance as they could. The fourth floor was alive with their writhing bodies, their torn rotting flesh beginning to fester and stink up the building.

  But other undead were not so easily distracted and made their way up the stairs. They screamed and growled at one another. Susan caught glimpses of their pale angry faces as they pressed against the furniture barricade.

  “I have grenades,” Jericho said. “If all else fails, we can still blow them back to hell.”

  “We could end up bringing the building down on top of us too,” Steve said.

  “He’s right,” Susan said. “It should be a last case scenario.”

  “We’re on the final floor with zombies banging on the door,” Jericho said. “How much more last case can it get?”

  Steve nodded.

  “Do it,” he said. “But only when they’re right on top of us.”

  Jericho grumbled under his breath.

  “Fine,” he said. “But it’s at my discretion. If I think all hope is lost, then I’m doing it.”

  He marched away.

  “Do you think we can trust him not to toss them too soon?” Susan said.

  “He’ll be fine,” Steve said. “You just concentrate on that machine.”

  Zombie arms reached through the barricade, their hands clawed and grabbing at anything they could reach. The soldiers stabbed at them with their knives, killing those in front. The fallen got torn apart by their undead brothers as they surged forward. The furniture splintered and snapped, giving way.

  One zombie stumbled from the blockade, reaching out with his hands. Jericho licked his lips and squeezed off a round. The zombie’s head snapped back on his flimsy neck.

  “Come on!” he yelled.

  The undead responded, bursting through the gaps in the barricade, falling to their knees as often as staying upright. The soldiers let loose a wave of bullets that slammed into the undead bodies, blowing them apart, giving rise to a red mist. Time slowed as the relentless, and seemingly endless, horde of undead smashed against the soldiers. An unstoppable force met an immovable object.

  Taylor sat crouched over her sniper rifle leg. She fired. The bullet blew through three, sometimes four undead. Nice of them to line up. She swiveled smoothly to her next target. Steve moved with the fluidity of a hunting snake, smooth, taking aim and firing with efficiency and accuracy. Jericho was at the opposite end of the spectrum, shredding the undead to pieces, blowing away limbs if he could.

  Finally, Archie’s whirring arm slowed. It folded back into its start position. The dish slid down the little metal lip to be collected. The cure was complete.

  “It’s done!” Susan yelled jubilantly.

  The soldiers roared, given a fresh burst of energy and hope. They ran forward, screaming at the top of their lungs, bellowing, and blowing away the undead, whose reeking bodies were piling up thick and fast.

  “Phil,” Susan said. “Send details of the cure to the other facilities and upload it to the internet.”

  “Will do,” Phil said, fingers a blur on the keyboard.

  Susan picked up the petri dish. She carried the world’s hopes in her hand. She inserted it into a machine and punched in instructions. The machine whirred and began to do its thing.

  “What’s this machine do?” Steve said.

  “It produces more of the cure,” Susan said. “Once it’s done, you should take it to wherever the army is gathering. They’ll be able to make more.”

  “You’re not coming with us?” Steve said.

  “No,” Susan said. “I have to get Amy. She’ll be so scared.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Richard said.

  Susan was about to argue, but she didn’t get a chance. The undead pushed forward again in large clusters. The soldiers’ bullets slammed into the them, but it took time for the zombies to fall, time they used to push forward, unwittingly using their fallen comrades as shields. The soldiers fell back.

  The cure was squirted into a set of a vials. The machine was not meant for industrial production. The zombies attacked the machine, destroying it in moments.

  Susan took the vials out and wrapped them in a plastic package. She pressed a button on the side. It inflated, like a beach ball. Susan approached the window and looked out.

  They were surrounded by medium-height buildings. There were no zombies on the ground, save for the large pile the soldiers had created when firing out of the window earlier to cause a distraction. She dropped the cure-ball out the window. She watched it bounce and took note of where it stopped.

  “How are we going to get out of here?” Richard said.

  “The same way as the cure,” Susan said.

  Richard looked at Susan like she was mad.

  “Are you crazy?” he said. “We’re on the fifth floor! We’ll die!”

  “There’s a mound of undead down there,” Susan said. “From when the soldiers fired out the windows earlier. We’ll aim for that.”

  Richard looked down.

  “You’re crazy!” he repeated.

  “It’s the window or the undead,” Susan said.

  The zombies burst forward, their fourth wave of attack. Taylor had removed herself from her position, backing up her comrades, fighting hand to hand. But she was unsteady. Her leg got trapped in an undead’s skull. She fell over. She reached out with her hands to catch herself, but an undead fell on her, and before Taylor could respond, the undead tore a chunk out of her arm.

  Taylor screamed, a guttural growl, and seized the undead by the hair and pulled him off. The other undead’s heads turned at the sound of Taylor’s blood splattering across the floor. They hissed and descended.

  Steve ran forward to meet them, filling the gap between hunters and prey. He swung at the undead. The soldiers were outnumbered ten to one in the room, and this was only the undead present. There were now thousands inside the building.

  Susan, Richard and Phil fired at the undead with their pistols, aiming at their heads, but hitting moving targets was exceptionally difficult.

  “Now can I use them?” Jericho said, holding up the grenades.

  Steve nodded.

  “About frickin’ time,” Jericho said.

  He pulled the pins and threw them at the undead.

  “Get back!” Jericho shouted.

  The explosion eviscerated the zombies, blowing them in
to meaty chunks. The survivors were knocked to the ground by the impact shockwaves, and were sprayed with undead blood.

  “Eugh!” Steve said. “That’s why we shouldn’t let off grenades in here.”

  “It ruined your hair?” Jericho said. “That cleared the old pipes though, ay?”

  Groans emitted through the red mist as the undead staggered to their feet. Some had lost their legs, and dragged themselves across the floor.

  “How do you like it, huh?” Taylor said to the undead.

  “Now what?” Jericho said.

  “Now we get out of here,” Susan said.

  “Get out?” Jericho said. “How?”

  “We jump,” Susan said.

  Susan turned and approached the window. The night was dark, the surrounding area illuminated by the building’s light.

  “We have to hurry,” Susan said. “They’re regrouping.”

  They all stood at the window and looked down.

  “This is a really bad idea,” Jericho said.

  They looked back at the blood-red mist as it settled. Meaty chunks adorned the walls and floor. A slaughterhouse. Fresh undead were making their way up the stairs.

  Jericho shrugged.

  “But there are worse ways to die, I guess,” he said.

  Richard took Susan’s hand. He smiled thinly.

  They jumped.

  11:36pm

  A rabbit stood in the shade of a mound of dead bodies. Blood dripped off the index finger of a protruding hand. The rabbit wiggled its nose at it. The finger twitched. The rabbit started and ran a short distance. The rabbit shuffled its ears and rubbed them with a wet paw.

  A hand reached out from the pile of broken bodies toward the rabbit. It was slow, moving outside the rabbit’s peripheral vision. It stretched a little farther… A few more inches, and…

  Crunch!

  The arm was crushed, snapping under the weight of something that fell on top of it.

  Something slid down the mound and flopped to the concrete on the other side. The rabbit turned and ran away, disappearing into the night.

  “Susan?” Richard said.

  “Hm?” Susan said.

  “Are we still alive?” Richard said.

  “I think so,” Susan said.

  They rolled off the pile of bodies, snapped bones crunching beneath them. They got to their feet. The undead grasped at their clothes, but their grip was weak and easily brushed off.

  Susan and Richard looked at the mound of bodies before them. Susan hadn’t realized how much death Richard’s life had cost. The grotesque hands kept reaching up and grasping for them, their heads invisible beneath the mound of bodies.

  Crunch!

  Crunch!

  Crunch!

  Crunch!

  Phil and the soldiers rolled to their feet, batting off the hands that grabbed at them.

  “I’m never doing that again,” Jericho said.

  Steve helped Taylor up. She was pale with loss of blood, but alive. Phil had a limp.

  They looked up at the fifth floor windows. The undead crowded around it, peering down. Some forgotten instinct prevented them from jumping.

  “We might have survived,” Steve said, “but we’re all definitely infected.”

  “But they didn’t bite us,” Jericho said.

  “They don’t need to,” Susan said. “We’d just need to inhale their blood.”

  “Well, that’s nice,” Jericho said.

  Susan bent down to pick up the cure in its protective beach ball casing. She punctured it and handed a vial to each of the survivors.

  “Drink it when you’re somewhere safe,” Susan said. “It’ll cure you of the virus. But be careful. You can get infected again.”

  “Get infected again?” Jericho said. “I thought we were working on a cure?”

  “This is a cure,” Susan said. “But it doesn’t make you immune.”

  Susan handed an extra vial to Steve and kept a spare for herself.

  “Get to a military base and have them make more,” Susan said. “The world’s counting on you.”

  “Who are you going to use your extra vial on?” Steve said.

  “An old friend,” Susan said.

  Uhhhhhhhhhhhh.

  The trail of undead ran up the street, toward the research center. It was incredible, as if the whole city’s population had been heading directly for them. No doubt the grenades had gotten their attention.

  “So this is goodbye,” Steve said.

  Susan and Steve hugged.

  “Try not to lose any more limbs while I’m gone,” Susan said.

  “I’ll try not to,” Steve said. “Keep your phone charged. I’ll call you once we find the base.”

  “All right,” Susan said.

  She shook Taylor and Jericho’s hands.

  “It’s been real,” Jericho said.

  “Real fun,” Susan said.

  Susan hugged Phil.

  “You can come with us, if you want,” she said.

  “Someone needs to set the cure up,” Phil said. “You know what the military’s like.”

  “Thank you,” Susan said. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “You just take care of yourself,” Phil said. “And Amy.”

  He nodded at Richard affably.

  “Dick,” he said.

  Steve and Jericho braced Taylor’s weight between them as Phil scouted ahead. Susan couldn’t help but feel a little sad. But she needed to get to Amy. She was relying on her.

  11:48pm

  Richard poked his head out from behind the tree and eyed the car at the end of the street. It was a beaten-up old roadster. It was once his pride and joy, but now it looked like it belonged in the mise-en-scene of a post-apocalyptic movie.

  Richard cast a look over his shoulder and creeped down the street. He pulled the passenger door open, eyes alert, scrubbing the surrounding area. He unlocked the passenger door for Susan. Susan got in. The passenger foot well was covered with crap, as always. Richard shut the door and crossed to the driver’s side. He got in and inserted his keys in the ignition. He said a soft prayer under his breath and then turned the key.

  “Come on baby,” he said.

  The engine stirred, shuddered, and then purred.

  “Yes!” Richard said.

  He smiled over at Susan. He saw her hangdog expression and the smile faded from his face. He put the car into gear and pulled out.

  Susan looked up at the fifth floor window of the Charlotte Research Center as they passed. The undead stood at the window, looking down at them. They reached for the moving vehicle with clawed hands, and in her mind she could hear their unearthly groans.

  Susan was numb at the thought of Amy protected only by a flimsy bathroom door, and the number of times it would take before it gave under Rosario’s weight.

  Richard drove the way he always did – slow, calm and steady. Susan held the two vials in her hands, fearful they might break in her pocket.

  “Can’t you drive any faster?” Susan said. “We need to get there as soon as possible.”

  “The speed limit’s only… Oh yeah,” Richard said, realizing what he was saying.

  He pressed the gas pedal and they sped up down the highway. The city was aflame, the buildings decimated. The brave new world the virus had carved out for them. It was a wasteland filled with disgusting creatures. Occasionally milky white eyes reflected off the car’s headlights as they cut through the darkness.

  Even if they got the cure out to the world and managed to make enough of it to save everyone, there was still going to be a crater in the population that would take generations to replace. The scars on the buildings and landmarks could be fixed, but the damage to the confidence of a once-proud species would never be the same again. In the future, every cough or sneeze would be treated with the utmost fear and suspicion. Susan didn’t like to think what that entailed for the species.

  But Susan and Richard kept going. They had little choice. They swer
ved around the abandoned cars and motorcycles until they entered the curtain of darkness that had been placed over the highway, the world and the future.

  12:03am

  As they rounded the gravel driveway the house emerged from behind a large unshorn hedge like something from a dream. The shutters on the windows were wide open. If there were any undead they could have just knocked. The glass of the windows was old and flimsy and wouldn’t have stood up to much battering.

  Susan was already pushing her door open before the car came to a complete stop. She ran to the door.

  “Susan…” Richard said, but his voice was lost as Susan ran into the house.

  “Amy?” Susan said as she smacked the front door open. “Amy?”

  The entrance hall was empty, save for the cluttered lumps of umbrellas and dirty boots half-cloaked in shadow.

  Susan stopped, gasping, a hand clamping over her mouth when she saw the bathroom door hanging open. Richard put his hands on her shoulders. Susan shrugged him off and staggered forward, collapsing before the door, on her knees.

  The cracked eggshell tiles were caked with red. A kid’s arms and legs lay on the floor like tossed matchsticks. So small and tiny, the fingers like small sausages. Susan leaned her head against the door frame. They were too late. Zombie Rosario had somehow gotten the door open and killed them. Killed the kids.

  “No…” Susan said. “No…”

  Tears spilled down her face, hot and hard. Her throat closed up, like it was trying to suffocate her.

  A whimper from upstairs. Susan would have recognized it anywhere.

  “Amy!” Susan cried.

  She rushed up the stairs, skidding on the woodchips on the landing. Rosario was curled up beside the door, her teeth wrapped around the doorknob of Amy’s room. She couldn’t have been there long – the door would have given way without much effort.

  Rosario’s cold dead eyes turned on Susan. She rose to her feet. Susan had never noticed how tall she was before. Despite everything she stood to lose, Susan froze. She couldn’t harm Rosario. Not in a million years. She was her mother in all but name, and now she was headed right for her. Susan wrapped her arms over her head.